Chapter 54 Where Have All the Villain's Traditional Virtues Gone?!

Hearing Ivan Vanko’s mocking voice, the Mandarin’s face darkened completely. He flicked his right pinky toward Ivan Vanko.

Ice Storm!

Crackling sounds of freezing echoed instantly. The temperature along the path of the energy beam plummeted, swiftly approaching absolute zero. In that extreme cold, Ivan Vanko was frozen in place. Within the massive block of ice, aside from Ivan Vanko himself, streaks of azure electricity—now like pigments locked upon a canvas of ice—were frozen, utterly motionless.

“Hmph!” The Mandarin gave a heavy snort, then turned and flew toward Tony. As for whether Ivan Vanko could survive, the Mandarin didn’t care. If he lived, perhaps he’d consider subduing him; if not, then that would be that—a kill, nothing more.

Far off in the desert, Tony and Yinsen were running on foot. Tony’s armor had been drained of power; the little energy that remained barely sufficed to keep the shrapnel in his bloodstream from killing him, merely sustaining his life.

Thud! Thud! Tony and Yinsen both dropped to their knees, feeling a crushing weight on their backs as the gravity around them abruptly doubled.

“Tony Stark, come quietly with me and build weapons for me. I guarantee your safety,” the Mandarin said, stepping out before Tony, looking down at him.

“In your dreams!” Tony gritted his teeth.

“Oh really?” The Mandarin, having been refused twice, was out of patience. The ring on his right index finger flashed.

Laser blast!

(It could project all forms of energy, for instance, fast neutrons or tremendous concussive force.)

“Ahhh!” Yinsen screamed in agony as his body began to disintegrate under the force of the shockwave.

“Yinsen!” Tony roared, his face twisted in rage.

“Don’t… agree to him!” Before Yinsen could finish, the Mandarin intensified the vibration. In the next second, Yinsen was reduced to a pile of flesh, scattered before Tony’s eyes.

“My patience is limited. You have one more chance. If you fail to satisfy me, I promise your death will be even more miserable than theirs!” the Mandarin threatened.

“You… wish!” Tony glared, prepared to face death.

BOOM!

Suddenly, a pillar of lightning struck the Mandarin, the electromagnetic field hurling Tony aside, while the main force drove the Mandarin deep into the sand.

On a distant sand dune, Ivan Vanko gasped for breath. Heat transfer, simply put, is the exchange of energy between molecules; by creating a vacuum around himself, he had managed to survive the extreme cold. Yet, merely shattering the thick ice around him had taken considerable time. By the time he broke free and rushed over, it was too late—Yinsen was already dead.

The sand beneath Ivan Vanko’s feet began to tremble, innumerable grains rising into the air. Amidst the swirling sands, the Mandarin spread his arms, his hair floating wildly—he was utterly enraged. Today, he had sworn to bury those two alive, and he intended to keep his word.

Ivan Vanko, exhausted, positioned himself before Tony. Tony, hollow-eyed and soulless, stared at Yinsen’s broken body in the distance.

“Hey, now do you admit you’re not as good as me?” Ivan Vanko coughed as he spoke.

Tony did not respond, indifferent to anything said.

“Forget it…” Ivan Vanko sighed, lifting his gaze to the Mandarin, who now stood amid a hill of sand, ready to crush them. Ivan Vanko, drained of strength, had no energy left to resist. “Forcing you to admit it now would be taking advantage of your misery.”

“Die, insects!” The Mandarin swept his arm; the mound of sand crashed down upon them.

Ivan Vanko stood tall, watching the falling sand. He had no strength left to survive such a massive attack.

Swish! Suddenly, a blade of light sliced through the clear sky.

With a crack, the sand mound split cleanly in two.

Ivan Vanko blinked, and he and the Mandarin turned simultaneously toward the source.

There stood a burly, imposing man. Ivan Vanko exclaimed in delight, “Master Jin!”

Jin Bradley nodded at Ivan Vanko, then shifted his gaze to the Mandarin.

“So, another fat insect’s come along. Master? I’ll turn you into a dead master,” the Mandarin sneered.

“Let me show you how to cut down trash who rely on gadgets,” Jin Bradley said to Ivan Vanko.

He raised his longsword and exhaled in relief—he’d made it in time. If not for Mage Kieran’s help, the alchemist he’d just recruited would have perished here.

Ten minutes earlier, Jin Bradley, at home, had received a special visitor.

“Mage Kieran, what brings you here?” Jin Bradley rose to greet him respectfully.

“I came to check on you and bring some news,” Yang Qiu replied, seating himself before Jin Bradley.

When the Mandarin appeared, Yang Qiu had immediately realized that Ivan Vanko—and possibly Tony Stark—were doomed. To prevent this outcome, Yang Qiu considered it best to send reinforcements.

Small fry for small fry, generals for generals—that’s the proper way.

Ivan Vanko, without development or upgrades, was facing the Middle East’s greatest boss—a progression unfit for any protagonist’s journey.

Villains these days had abandoned their traditions—no more cannon-fodder minions to provide experience.

Jin Bradley was the best reinforcement available. Coincidentally, Ivan Vanko’s current location was also suitable for script evolution, so Jin Bradley could remain there stably.

“News? What news?” Jin Bradley asked.

With a wave of his hand, Yang Qiu conjured an image before Jin Bradley—it depicted the battle between Ivan Vanko and the Mandarin. It was clear at a glance that Ivan Vanko was at an overwhelming disadvantage.

With a smack, Jin Bradley sprang up, but immediately realized that with such distance, he’d never make it in time, not even to collect the bodies. Only a teleportation spell would do.

As Jin Bradley turned to him, Yang Qiu tapped the air with a finger, opening a portal.

Jin Bradley saluted gratefully. As he prepared to step through, he hesitated—he was no longer in Russia; would the surrounding mystical forces seize the opportunity to act?

“Go ahead, I was planning to stick around here anyway. Or is my presence unwelcome?” Yang Qiu said with a smile, intent on upholding his own rules.

Jin Bradley breathed a sigh of relief, grasped his longsword, and plunged into the portal.